It’s hard to think “ancient” is just around the corner, but it’s harder to come up with a ball of drama that can roll over every single selfish corporate sellouts and squeeze the greed out of them. All the words get too mixed up in that melting pot of wisdom that it turns into sour cream, good for Mexican food.

There’s a newspaper clipping from the LA Times September 8, 2007 about polar bears’ possible extinction. And that’s the only way I can think of to sum up all seven years of being a tweeny tiny teen. There’s no drama, cause I’m saving it all to buy empanada for my grandma. There’s no list of things I’m thankful about either. Too many memories to share for so little time (I have to catch up on Ugly Betty). If all the teen passion to live, to do this and that and that and that and that  is gone, then I’m definitely not suited to be in this demographic anymore. However I do feel there’s a lot more space in the 10-12 demographic, and I might be welcome there too.

Given the nauseating blankness, I’ll say good night, world. Sleep tight, for there’s a lot of people wanting to hear you live.